Traveling With Elvis - life with a 1956 Airstream Sovereign of the Roadhttp://www.travelingwithelvis.com
life with a 1956 Airstream Sovereign of the RoadSat, 16 Mar 2013 02:24:19 +0000en-UShourly1https://wordpress.org/?v=4.8.736038164http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/sugars_wp/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/tiny-twe-fav5.pngTraveling With ElvisTravelingWithElvishttps://feedburner.google.comSome Things I Never Knewhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TravelingWithElvis/~3/b5QVSL8wCBI/some-things-i-never-knew.html
http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2013/03/some-things-i-never-knew.html#commentsSat, 16 Mar 2013 01:37:57 +0000http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/?p=6849It has been a couple of months now since Arizona. Allow me to share a few things I learned while visiting with the Schwamborn’s. Evenings included Pee Wee’s sharing of the Byam-Schwamborn history and the things of which Airstream was made. Pee Wee has given custodianship for many historical items to the Baker Heritage Museum in Baker, Oregon.

Mario, one of the Schwamborn’s cats, is a Daddy’s boy.

One of his jobs is to guard the boxes and boxes of material still in Pee Wee’s possession.

Not to mention filing cabinets and shelves chocked full.

Plus goodies like his masks from the Cape Town to Cairo African Caravan in 1959-60 and the perfect scale model of the Caravan scout truck made by Brad Norgaard. One particularly memorable evening I curled up in the big leather chair in Pee Wee’s office.

He handed me a box of tiny notebooks, Wally Byam’s notebooks written in his own hand. They were from his years at Lockheed, the early 1940s, the war years.

Some were his personal notes from when working with Lockheed.

As I read through the rest of the notebooks it became crystal clear that building trailers after the war was the last thing on his mind. Truth be known, Wally Byam was making plans which would totally change the direction of his life.

He had absolutely no intent to continue with his travel trailer company, what we know as Airstream. I turned page after page, reading plans which described a camping supply business, what to sell, and how to sell it.

There were maps for camping or hiking expeditions, perhaps guided trips he was planning to offer. Perhaps using his beloved pack mules, Pike and Jenny.

There were tips for surviving the elements, camp cooking supply lists and recipes, outlines for books he planned to write on camping topics. There were even his own designs for modular supply kits, and drawings for manufacturing equipment like tents and stoves.

Wally Byam was very busy compiling field notes and testing clothing and equipment. Essentially, he was grooming himself to be the next L.L. Bean or REI. Had it not been for Curtis Wright himself (not to be confused with Curtiss-Wright Aircraft) asking Wally to come work with him in the trailer building business, Airstream as we know it would have never existed.

Then Pee Wee handed me maybe two out of probably several hundred folders. They were stuffed full of correspondence and photos from the late 40′s and early 50s, all original.

Photos of Wally, both Marian (his first wife) and Stella, and photos of Pee Wee’s Mom, Helen Byam Schwamborn. Did you know Wally owned a calliope? And there was more. Pictures of camping together, just camping. Some with Airstreams, some with tents. It was like peeking into a family album and seeing a great family enjoying life together and having a wonderful time.

I combed through a large stack of personal letters between Wally and Neil (Corneilius) Vanderbilt. It is fairly well known that these two men were business associates.

Reading chronologically through the letter, cards, and telegrams was like sitting between the two of them while they were conversing in real life.

There was more to their relationship than I had known. It was not just about business. It was clear they enjoyed traveling together. They were not just good friends, but great friends, doing things together, sharing thoughts and details of their very private lives in their own handwriting. Details that were meant to be for their eyes only, not even their secretaries, just between the two of them.

Curling up in Pee Wee’s office with just a smidgen of what exists was a rare treat. The volume of material still in his care is overwhelming and much of it hasn’t been reviewed in detail. While he is slowly working to examine and catalog what he has, it is a daunting undertaking.

A few more items from the treasure trove can be seen in the gallery below. Meanwhile, Mario will continue to carefully guard the boxes and boxes of Byam-Schwamborn Airstream history.

]]>http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2013/03/some-things-i-never-knew.html/feed56849http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2013/03/some-things-i-never-knew.htmlMore Than A Desert Statehttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TravelingWithElvis/~3/1FmryQGCQBY/more-than-a-desert-state.html
http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2013/02/more-than-a-desert-state.html#commentsSun, 10 Feb 2013 16:34:05 +0000http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/?p=6838The Arizona sky is beautiful at sunset, even on a cloudless evening when admired in the windows of roadside abandonment. When I arrived at the Schwamborn’s home the stars were vivid with the air chilled and clear.

Pee Wee and Susan are the sweetest and most hospitable of hosts. After nearly three years, It was so good to see them again. Once settled and fed a hot meal, I learned of all the exciting places they planned to take me. Here are a few of the highlights.

We visited Arcosanti, an urban experiment of sorts, a self-sustaining city set on 8000 acres which, on it’s completion, is intended to support about 5000 people.

The brain child of Paolo Soleri, a rogue student of Frank Lloyd Wright and renowned artist in his own right, Arcosanti was a fascinating study in architecture and design. Pee Wee, who thoroughly enjoys photography, found plenty of excellent photo ops. As did I.

It’s expansion is supported through the sale of ceramic and brass bells designed by Soleri and made on the premises.

Prescott holds lots of history in its streets, the earliest of which might have been “Whiskey Row”, and the Palace Saloon, whose roots go into the days of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday.

The walls are lined with memorabilia, a museum of sorts.

You might even see characters from the past stopping in for refreshment and relaxation.

I learned that not all Arizona is simply a flat to rolling hot desert as I had always believed. Within a 65 mile radius the Schwamborns took me everywhere from crystal blue lakes to snow-covered mountains to scenes rivaling the Grand Canyon. I never knew Arizona had so much topographical variety.

We scrambled through the wilderness near Dewey, where the terrain is rough without a trail and glacial-like ice packs nestle in the crevices. Sunshine played hide and seek with the rocks.

We drove to the remote edge of Munds Park, covered in nearly a foot of snow in some spots. The road dead-ends to where one can pick up trails into the forest.

Coming back down overlooking the Verde Valley and it feels like one can see forever.

Sedona was breathtaking.

The colors and contrast of the rock formations against the vegetation are amazing, nature’s work of art.

I found that wise old trees exist in Arizona. The twisted trunk of this old soul was weathered by wind in sand to where the trunk was as smooth as silk in spots, yet intricately textured in others.

There is a chapel nestled high up in the rock in Sedona, The Chapel of the Holy Cross, which was built the same year as Elvis, in 1956.

It is a treasure in mid-century design, but more importantly, it is a spiritual place. It doesn’t matter what you believe or who you believe in.

When you walk in the door you will know that it is a house of peace. It is simple, profoundly moving, and beautiful.

In spite of waning daylight, we went high into the mountain to Jerome, an old mining town that is alive and crumbling all at the same time.

Practically clinging to the mountainside, it is an eclectic community and a visual delight if you enjoy exploring and imagining what once was.

Jerome’s architecture is diverse and the remnants retain a few traces of what must have been its glory days.

One the way down the mountain I found that flamingoes even frequent the high country of Arizona. But they wear a most unusual costume at these elevations.

We swung through old town Cottonwood on the way home. There is an old gas station turned eatery that draws a lot of attention.

After coffee Saturday morning in their big bay window, my favorite spot in the Schwamborn house, I headed towards Phoenix to grab a hotel room and catch a flight the next morning.

Near Phoenix I had the privilege of meeting Brad Norgaard, fellow Tradewind owner, for lunch. It was wonderful to thank him in person for his kindness and support when I was first learning the ropes of Airstream ownership. Among other things, of course, we talked about all things Airstream.

Brad’s 1959 Tradewind is nearly all original and he shared some interesting and very useful features he has added that would be great for my own Airstreams.

His Airforums handle is Flyfsher and you can catch his blog at ’59 Tradewind. If you ever meet Brad and his lovely wife Julie on the road, you are in for a treat.

Thanks to the Schwamborns, the stereotypical desert state visual of Arizona has been blown out of the water for me. It wasn’t until approaching Phoenix that I saw some of the Arizona I had always envisioned. Arizona, I will come back again, one day.

]]>http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2013/02/more-than-a-desert-state.html/feed46838http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2013/02/more-than-a-desert-state.htmlNever Trust a Street Donkeyhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TravelingWithElvis/~3/ARXcFlvVNIk/never-trust-a-street-donkey.html
http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2013/01/never-trust-a-street-donkey.html#commentsThu, 31 Jan 2013 02:03:58 +0000http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/?p=6790After leaving Area 63 I drove east to Arizona to visit the Schwamborns. Pee Wee suggested I detour at the California border for Oatman and a stretch of the old mother road, Route 66.

At Needles, California, I turned north and followed the signs. Seemingly God-forsaken in the middle of nowhere, the highway narrowed to a tiny ribbon of winding road. I’m thinking, “What kind of wild goose chase did Pee Wee send me on. There isn’t anything out here for miles.”

Suddenly, the road turned left and I began to see odd things, like tinsel and bows and red Solo cups hanging from scrubby bushes. Then a few dwellings.

Then, donkeys, lots of them, lollygagging in a tiny town street packed with tourists. I pulled into the first parking spot I saw. Curiously, Oatman is known for its wild burro population. They are everywhere and have become quite the attraction.

Not really appearing all that wild, several posed for me with their best muleheaded faces.

One even bore an ever so slight resemblance to my sweet Lulu Sugarfoot who was also known for her muleheaded stubbornness. I still miss her every day.

I returned to the car for a different camera lens filter. The herd surrounded me and gave me a butt shot. As I turned back to the car I saw that the herd had been covering for their buddy. A spotted “ass” had nudged into my partially open car door and was rooting through my belongings.

“Hey, what are you doing, get out of there, NOW”, I yelled in a tone I used to reserve for Lulu’s misbehavior. He ignored me. Like a donkey would listen? Right.

Instinctively, I grabbed the animal by the mane and began pulling him out. He backed out of the car and threw up his head showing me one of my fresh-from-the-tree California grapefruit firmly locked in his teeth.

I tried to wrestle it away but he pulled back, sucked it further into his mouth, and bit down squirting it like a citrus juicer on steroids.

The herd gathered around as if this were the plan all along.

When the spotted thief was finished, his accomplices gnoshed on the remains one by one until there was nothing left. Who knew donkeys liked grapefruit?

Disgusted, I left Oatman and proceeded east on Route 66. Twenty-eight more miles of twisting narrowness. It’s amazing to think Airstreams used to travel these roads.

Even though my stretch of the mother road had little more than Oatman and an old gas station, it was an unforgettable side trip. I highly recommend driving at least a small piece of this historic highway if you have an opportunity.

As I headed towards Dewey, I mulled over the lesson learned on Route 66. Never turn your back on a streetwise donkey.

]]>http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2013/01/never-trust-a-street-donkey.html/feed26790http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2013/01/never-trust-a-street-donkey.htmlElvis and Area 63http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TravelingWithElvis/~3/hl1lAeENBMc/the-next-phase-elvis-and-area-63.html
http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2013/01/the-next-phase-elvis-and-area-63.html#commentsFri, 25 Jan 2013 22:39:08 +0000http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/?p=6775Last week I jumped on a plane and headed towards Elvis. He is now in the care of Uwe Salwender at Area 63 Productions in Orange, California.

Uwe has a fabulous shop with a great crew. It is obvious they all work well together. He tells me that as many as five Airstreams in different phases of restoration have been inside the shop at one time.

His trailers are truly custom, everything from retail space in a ‘Stream to anyone’s dream ‘Stream. The mirror shine on one of his current projects is something to behold.

First, Uwe brought Elvis out from the secure RV storage area which is just a short distance from the shop.

He is sporting new tires and wheels. It was really nice to see the whale tail again shining in the California sun. Especially since Elvis is a California trailer, I’m sure he feels right at home here.

In hardly any time at all, Elvis was emptied of the entire stash of goodies still inside from Trailer Buff.

Because of the weight, the fridge, oven broiler, and the divan were left in towards the front.

Then Uwe had his crew replace the existing casework according to the original layout. The goal was to bring all the casework framing back inside a near empty trailer to get a feel for the space and how it would work.

Speaking of space, Uwe has a clear sense of good design and how space should flow within an Airstream. This is a blessing as the best I can do is say what I want. Uwe understands how to build what I want and make it work in the space I have.

When I was describing how I envisioned living in Elvis, I could almost see gears turning in his mind as he thought it through and made suggestions. I have a feeling that, in Uwe’s hands, Elvis has the potential to be an extremely amazing Airstream.

In the beginning, I had anticipated the original midship twin layout so I’d be able to travel with Mom and keep an eye on her. Sadly, that isn’t going to happen since she has deteriorated to where trailer travel is out of the question. Even though I am keeping the general layout with the existing casework, there are now some new possibilities. I’ll explain more when Elvis is closer to that point.

After reloading everything, we took Elvis to the scales to get an idea of where we were with the majority of the equipment and casework on board. Turns out the gross trailer weight is at 5100 pounds with a tongue weight of 760. Of course this will change on completion, but it is good information to know now.

We towed Elvis back to his spot in the storage facility. He is in good company. Along with some fairly high-end RVs, there are several other Airstreams including Bill Kerfoot’s beautiful two-door 1954 Liner. Elvis will remain here until it is his turn to go to the shop. When I brought Elvis to Area 63 it was with the understanding that he would be waiting in queue behind those that were here first.

Uwe and I pored for hours over the raft of notes collected since the beginning of rebuilding Elvis. Not to mention finish samples, drawings, equipment lists, and electrical layouts. It seems we are all on the same page now and it’s a wonderful feeling. I know in my heart that Elvis is in the right place at the right time.

The Bambi is always ready to roll on a moment’s notice. Add perfect weather with a well-timed opportunity and a quick weekend getaway is easy. Jim and Regina’s driveway was basecamp.

Saturday morning we trekked up to Cataloochee Valley tucked away high in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. There is a campground available seasonally, but personally, I wouldn’t try to tow up anything bigger than the Bambi. There are only two roads in, both unpaved washboard, narrow and full of switchbacks.

Did I mention the steep drop off the side of the mountain? I wonder if passing was any easier in 1901 when two wagons met than when two honkin’ 4WD diesels meet today.

The view on the way, however, was amazing. The name Cataloochee was taken from the Cherokee term meaning “wave upon wave of mountains.”

The valley once thrived with over a thousand residents in the early 1900’s, mostly hearty souls that worked the land.

A few original buildings remain.

An old chapel built in 1898 is just feet from a crystal clear creek.

The door is always open and leaves swirl on the floor as if to imply that Mother Nature herself might worship here.

The air is pungent with the damp rich scent of fallen hemlock needles mingled with earth and honey. There is a distant hint of smoke. I could just stand here and drink it into every pore for a very long time.

We came to see the Elk. Having missed the rutting season by barely more than a week, none of the bulls were sparring. They were spectacular nonetheless.

Most of the herd reclined peacefully in the shade of the tree line.

Big daddy of the herd. He bugled once for us. Impressive!

Being Big Daddy doesn’t intimidate the older doe. She will speak her mind.

But when a young grazing doe started moving closer and closer to me, he stood full up. Then he looked directly at me and put his head down. I could hear a snort of breath. I respectfully backed away slowly. Then I noticed everyone else had already retreated towards their cars.

I’m not certain, but I believe tangling with a mess of antlers attached to 800 pounds of elk might be worse than someone opening a can of whoop-ass.

]]>6735http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2012/11/the-elk-of-cataloochee-valley.htmlMission Accomplished!http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TravelingWithElvis/~3/BEdIDE7A1EQ/mission-accomplished.html
Tue, 02 Oct 2012 02:15:10 +0000http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/?p=6404Thanks to Wayne Moore and his towing expertise, Elvis snugged up safely in a spot next to another 13-panel vintage at Area 63 Productions on Sunday afternoon, the 30th of September.

Coincidentally, Elvis’s recording of “Promised Land” was released 38 years ago this very day. Written by Chuck Berry in 1964, it describes “the poor boy’s” journey from Virginia to California.

This morning in the dark of 6:00 AM, Wayne Moore pulled Elvis out of the Waddell’s driveway and began the journey from Virginia to California. He plans to arrive by Sunday, the 30th.

]]>6398http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2012/09/heading-to-the-promised-land.htmlElvis Update – Moving Westhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TravelingWithElvis/~3/JRYbnS_Ipho/elvis-update-moving-west.html
http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2012/09/elvis-update-moving-west.html#commentsWed, 26 Sep 2012 22:38:17 +0000http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/?p=6375It’s been over a year since I’ve posted a serious update on Elvis. There is quite a bit of news.

To summarize, the exterior window front and back frames have been installed. They required an extraordinary amount of work and look fabulous.

Plenty of angle and straight bracing was added for structural strength and to support the awnings, the A/C and solar panels.

Drip caps, the door eyebrow and awning rails were installed above all windows. Elvis will have Zip-Dee’s all the way around. The reflective insulation has been installed inside. You can see the fully-sleeved conduits in the ribs for wiring thus preventing wire erosion when traveling.

The precious Bargman H20-2 lock set was reworked and the door installed.

Several polishing cuts have been done. Ultimately, carburetor fluid was the magic bullet for getting the gunk off the roof. That plus lots of muscle.

New wheel wells have been fabricated. The wonderful Airstream aluminum double step is in place and the Ultrafab power stabilizing jacks are installed. The lowest clearance point of the trailer is under the power jacks. Their position in relation to the axles should allow travel over slopes or grades without dragging bottom.

The interior skins were stripped, etched, primed, and riveted temporary to the interior ribs.

Dave had tapered the heavy-duty frame rebuild fore and aft to maintain the vintage Airstream lines. After he installed has own hand-compounded corners, the banana wraps, and the restored beltline components, it was evident that, in spite of the extra-deep frame, he had achieved his goal. Look at the detail of his compound drip edge at the A-frame exit point. Extremely nice work.

The closed belly looks like any other vintage Airstream until you notice the slope at the stabilizers and the beefy edge of the bottom frame. The stabilizers and axles are mounted in the exposed frame. Another detail is the access panels to the holding tanks.

Here you can see the full length profile. While not exactly the original design, the strength and functionality is far superior.

Trailer Buff has done exceptional work on Elvis. I’m certain none could have done better. But life has a way of changing plans and Dave has a lot more slices of life on his plate now than when Elvis first arrived. He is getting out of the Airstream restoration business. Together we decided transferring Elvis to another professional would be the best option. Now is the perfect stopping point for this to occur.

Uwe Salwender, owner of Area 63 Productions, has agreed to complete the retrofitting of Elvis. Wayne Moore, my guardian angel of the Route 11 Caravan, will be transporting Elvis across country to Uwe’s shop in Orange, California.

Yesterday Doug Rowbottom, his brother-in-law, Roger, and I went to Trailer Buff to pack up Elvis and get him ready for transport. To my great surprise, we had everything done and left for Front Royal before 3:00 PM.

It’s been nearly 4 years since Elvis has been hitched to my Titan. It felt good.

We even stopped at my favorite diner in New Market, the Southern Kitchen, for a delicious meal.

Elvis was living in the Waddell’s driveway before dark. Along with several other campers. You never know who or what you will find at the Waddell’s but you can usually count on a full house.

Elvis is hitched to Wayne’s truck right now. In the morning he’ll be on the way to California. Kind of ironic, Elvis, a California Airstream, is returning to not far from Los Angeles where he was born to continue his makeover. Hmmm, wasn’t there another famous Elvis that found fame, in 1956 no less, partly due to a trip to California to a little town near Los Angeles called Hollywood?

Lulu was a survivor, the runt of the litter, nearly killed by a sibling. Laughter was her favorite sound. She would bring me her favorite purple monkey squeezing it over and over to make it kiss and say “I love you”. A true opportunist, she reasoned from cause-to-effect working things into her advantage. Stubborn, high drive, tough as nails. She lived life wide open without regret and wore her little heart on her sleeve. She grieved hard for months after we lost Maggie, her pack mate. Her one great terror was thunderstorms. Lulu was my child dog, my heart’s delight.

Her appearance never betrayed her age. But within the 7 weeks since the horrible derecho storm in Virginia, she deteriorated scary fast. There must have been severe pain before now but somehow she hid it well. Suddenly, she couldn’t. The evilness robbed her of sleep and sanity in spite of every treatment we tried. Then her hind quarters began to fail completely.

August 22, 2012. She woke me at 4:32 AM. We went outside on the deck under the stars and talked. She kissed my face, and in her own way she gently told me it was time. Just after sunrise her sweet, tragic, happy-go-lucky spirit was set free. She would have been 14 years old in January.

Run, baby girl, run! Run from the demons. Run, baby, run . . . . run to the river.

My sunshine is gone. My heart is broken wide open. The profound emptiness just won’t go, I miss her terribly.

(music by Nickelback, “If Today was Your Last Day”, from Dark Horse, published by WMG )

]]>http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2012/08/i-wish-she-could-have-lived-forever.html/feed296281http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2012/08/i-wish-she-could-have-lived-forever.htmlScratches and Dents and Guardian Angelshttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TravelingWithElvis/~3/_Gl62YQHJhE/scratches-and-dents-and-guardian-angels.html
http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/2012/06/scratches-and-dents-and-guardian-angels.html#commentsSun, 01 Jul 2012 02:51:30 +0000http://www.travelingwithelvis.com/?p=6249At the cabin, it might have been around 4 AM Friday morning, there was a sharp thunk. The dog was up. She probably backed into the open wardrobe door slamming it shut. Swiftly I receded into a dream state.

Coming out in the morning, I saw the truth. I sleep the sleep of the dead in my Airstreams, but I was surprised that this one hadn’t snapped me out of bed. Maybe I should never camp under trees again.

Most every vintage Airstream has some skin damage. Elvis and the Bambi have their share. But the poor Tradewind has taken a beating. It had plenty of scars before it knew me.

My first incident was scraping the entire curbside with an askew telephone pole during the Rt. 11 caravan last year. I was nauseous.

Wayne Moore was my guardian angel, soothed my distraught soul, straightened my jalousies and hand-worked my crushed drip caps and door eyebrow into functionality so I could brave the rain. Last month I ran into a blinding hail storm in rush-hour traffic with no way to pull over. And now this.

Damage prior to my ownership never bothered me much. But I personally view vintage ownership as a stewardship. Damage under my care causes me guilt, pain, even physical illness. While ruminating over this latest event I had an epiphany.

When Wally Byam built Airstreams I’m sure he intended them to be used, not sit protected from blemish like a china doll. Risk of scratch and dent never stopped any Caravanner in Mexico or Africa. When something is well-loved, well-used, stuff will happen. Repair and maintain as best you can and go on. The point is to love and use it well, and enjoy the pleasure it gives. We are not meant to live in fear of the “what if” or dwell in misery over life’s imperfections.

Friday evening, about 9:15 PM inside the cabin. Mary Kim suddenly jumped up running outside yelling, “Something’s wrong”“There’s a tornado over us! It isn’t on the ground yet! Dacia, V, Get in the bathroom – NOW!”
I ran to the door to see a swirling yellow-gray wind with debris. It was the start of the derecho, swift and sudden. The power flickered and went off. There was no time to get Lulu out of the Airstream. We huddled in the hall bath, praying. When the sound of objects hitting the house subsided, I ran to the Airstream to get Lulu who surely must have had a K-9 guardian angel holding her. Trailer’s still intact, but the property is peppered with debris. On the way back I twist my ankle and fall. The lightning and high winds resume. I heard a sickening crack overhead as I hobbled with Lu to the cabin for cover.

About 1 AM the wind was finally silent. Mary Kim and I checked to see if I still had a trailer. Honestly, it is a miracle. The front end cap lit up cheerily in the flashlight and all appeared to be in one piece. In daylight we could see how blessed I really was.

The 40 foot tree directly over the Airstream lost its twin tops yet somehow defied the law of physics when falling to the ground.

It should have crushed or punched through the Tradewind. The only damage I find is one small abrasion.

After recruiting a chain saw and getting the Airstream out, we saw the magnitude of what could have been. Do Airstreams have their own guardian angels? I think this one did.

I will embrace the character marks, the evidence of my Airstreams’ histories. I’m thankful for guardian angels. And I will camp under the trees again.